ILLUSTRATIONS

"BRING US A PLAIN OMELETTE AND ONE DISH OF PRUNES."

TWO AND A HALF POUNDS OF IRON LANDED ON MY INSTEP

"YOU BETCHER SWEET"

THE ANSWER WAS A CREAM-COLORED HORSE WHICH LOOKED AT ME SADLY

A PRETTY HOT LINE OF GOODS, EH?

I WAS SO SURPRISED I DROPPED THE EGG

CHAPTER I.

JOHN HENRY GETS A PARTNER.

"Seven weeks and then the wedding bells will get busy for you, eh, Bunch?" I chuckled.

"Surest thing you know," my old pal Jefferson replied, somewhat dolefully.

"I must dig up a few old shoes and have a plate of cold rice pudding on the doorstep," I went on. "It's going to afford me a bunch of keen delight to soak you in the midriff with a rusty patent leather and then push a few rice fritters in under your coat collar, believe me!"

Bunch tried to pull a smile, but his face didn't feel like working, and the finish was a mournful sigh.

"John," he said, after the waiter had crowded the sizz-water into the wood alcohol, "I'm a plain case of shrimp!"

"Oh, sush!" I said; "you'll get over that, Bunch. Isn't it a hit how we young fellows begin to warm wise to ourselves the moment we get a flash of the orange blossoms. We think of the beautiful little lady we are leading to the altar and then we think of the many beautiful souses we have led by the hand, and we begin to ask ourselves if we are worthy. Before we can get the right answer the preacher has dropped the flag, the ceremonies are over, and after that the struggle to supply three squares a day puts the boots to every other worry; am I right, Gonsalvo?"

"I s'pose so, John," Bunch replied, "but it isn't a case of rattles with me. I'm shy with the mazume, and it looks now as if that little trip to the minister's will have to be postponed indefinitely."

"Skidoo, skidoo, and quit me, Mr. Josheimer!" I suggested.

"I mean it, John," Bunch came back. "I can't lead a girl like Alice Grey into the roped arena of matrimony when I haven't the price of an omelette for the wedding breakfast, now can I?"

"Great Scott, Bunch, have you been Chadwicked for your roll ?" I asked. "Are you the man from Ohio that was so polite he gave his bank to the lady? If you are, it serves you right."

"No, John," Bunch answered mournfully, "but I had to go to Washington on a business trip, and while there——"

"Wait, Bunch," I chipped in; "I've got you sized. While in Washington you met a couple of wise voices who talked nothing but sure-things, so you for the Bennings race track to spill your coin, eh, Beau?"

"Well, John, I'll tell you how it was," Bunch tried to square himself. "My roll was just five thousand strong, and I began to wish for about two thousand more, so that I could take the little wife over the wild waves and point out Paris and the Riviera to her. In Washington I met a quick talker named Ike Gibson and he played me for a good, steady listener. Ike showered me with cinches and in short order I was down with Bennings fever. And then——"

"I know the answer, Bunch," I sighed, "You followed Ike's clues and finished fainting. I'm wise. But, say! Bunch, didn't you pipe me with the neck bruises often enough in the old days to profit by my experience? Didn't I go up against that horse game so hard that I shook the whole community, and aren't you on to the fact that the only sure thing about a race track is a seat on a trolley car going in the opposite direction?"

"I know, John," Bunch replied, "but this looked awfully good to me, and I went after it."

"Did they sting you for the whole bundle?" I asked.

"Not quite," Bunch answered sadly; "but they certainly put a crimp in my wallet. I'm only $1,500 strong now, and that's not enough to tip the porter on the honeymoon journey. You know, John, I'm only drawing $100 a week from the brokerage business, and I'll get nervous if I can't make up a purse quicker than that. I'll simply have to go to Alice and Uncle William Grey and get a set-back, and—say, John! I'm a polish, for fair! Alice is making all her preparations, and has her mind fastened to the date, and all that sort of thing, and like a chump I go up against that——"

"Oh, get back from the funeral, get back, Bunch!" I advised. "How often have I told you not to cut a beef about the has-happened? You went to Bennings, got dizzy, did a couple of Arabs and lose the price of a wedding trip—that's all. Now we must get that money back before the minister steps up to start the fight."

"How can I win out $3,500 in seven weeks, I'd like to know!" Bunch moaned.

"A cincherine," I came back. "I've got a scheme cooking that will put you and me all to the splendid in short order."

"Yes, but these schemes of yours sometimes get nervous prostration," Bunch began to fret.

"Sush, now!" I said; "this is the real goods. It can't go wrong. It's just like getting money from Carnegie. I've discovered a genius."

"A genius!" Bunch repeated; "what kind of a genius?"

"His name is Signor Beppo Petroskinski, an Illusionist," I answered. "And he's aces."

"What does he do?" asked Bunch; "spar eight rounds with the piano or sell Persian rugs?"

"Nix on the hurry talk, Bunch," I said. "Petroskinski is a discovery of mine, and he's all to the mustard. He's an Illusionist, and he can pull off some of the best tricks I ever blinked at. Say, he has Hermann and Keller and all those guys backed up in a corner yelling for help. Skinski is our mint, and we're going to take him out over the one-night stands and drag a fortune away from Mr. and Mrs. Reub."

"You mean you're going to finance a tour for this unknown magician and expect to win out? Say, John, don't let my troubles affect your brain; I'll be good and stop crying!"

"I mean, Bunch, that Skinski is the wonder of the age, and all we have to do is to show him to the public and they'll be handing us their jewelry. You know, Bunch, I'm a few chips shy myself on account of a side play which my wife knows nothing about. I promised her to make a first payment of $5,000 on that new home we're going to buy on the first of the year, and I fell down and broke my promise. I thought I could drag the homestead money away from the Street, so I took a few slices of Amalgamated Copper and burned my thumb. Old Colonel Frenzied Finance didn't do a thing to me. When I yelled for help my pocketbook looked like a last season's autumn leaf in the family Bible. Peaches isn't wise that I've lost my roll, so it's up to me to make good before she screams for a receiver."

"But this Skinski proposition," Bunch groaned; "isn't that taking a long chance? Clara J. was always bitterly opposed to you having anything to do with a theatrical venture—what will she say?"

"Peaches needn't be in on this at all," I said. "We'll simply put up a thousand each for the expense money, start Petroskinski, and after the opening night began to gather in the mazooboes. When we get all the money we need, we'll sell our interest and bow out. It's a pipe, Bunch. I tell you, this Skinski has them all faded to a whisper. He has a bunch of new illusions that will simply make the jay audiences sit up and throw money at us. And as for sleight-of-hand and card tricks, well, say! Skinski can throw a new pack of cards up in the air and bite his initials on the queen of diamonds before it hits the floor. He's a marvel."

"Where did you find him?" Bunch inquired.

"At a club smoker," I answered. "He was the hit of the evening. He pulled a few snake tricks down there and in five minutes he had all the members of the Highball Association climbing the water wagon. That was the same evening I took Clara J. to the St. Regis to dinner. Did I ever tell you about it, Bunch? Well, say, it may help you to forget your troubles. It's a swell joint, all right, O.K., is the St. Regis, but hereafter me for the beanery thing with the high stool and the low prices.

"In the St. Regis the faces of the clerks and the clocks gave token that much money changed hands while it was building.

"In the lobby the furniture was covered with men about town, who sat around with a checkbook in each hand and made faces at the cash registers.

"There are more bellboys than bedrooms in the hotel. They use them for change. Every time you give the cashier $15 he hands you back $1.50 and six bellboys.

"We took a peep at the diamond-backed dining-room and when I saw the waiters refusing everything but certified checks in the way of a tip, I said to Peaches, 'This is no place for us!' But she wouldn't let go, and we filed in to the appetite killery.

"A very polite lieutenant-waiter, with a sergeant-waiter and two corporal-waiters, greeted us and we gave the countersign, 'Abandon wealth, all ye who enter here.'

"Then the lieutenant-waiter and his army corps deployed by columns of four and escorted us to the most expensive looking trough I ever saw in a dining-room.

"'Peaches,' I said to my wife, 'I'm doing this to please you, but after I pay the check, it's me to file a petition in bankruptcy.'

"But she only grinned, picked up the point-lace napkin and began to admire the onyx furniture.

"'Que souhaitez vous?' said the waiter, bowing so low that I could feel a chill running through my little bank account.

"'I guess he means you,' I whispered to Peaches, but she looked very solemnly at the menu card and began to bite her lips.

"'Je suis tout a votre service,' the waiter cross-countered before I could recover, and he had me gasping. It never struck me that I had to take a course in French before entering the St. Regis hunger foundry, and there I sat making funny faces at the tablecloth, while my wife blushed crimson and the waiter kept on bowing like an animated jack-knife.

"'Say, Mike!' I ventured after a bit; 'tip us off to a quiet bunch of eating that will fit a couple of appetites just out seeing the sights. Nothing that will put a kink in a year's income, you know, Beau; just suggest some little thing that looks better than it tastes, but is not too expensive to keep down.'

"'Oui, oui!' His Marseillaise came back at me, 'un diner confortable doit se composer de potage, de volaille bouillie ou rotie, chaude ou froide, de gibier, de plats rares et distingues, de poissons, de sucreries, de patisseries et de fruits!'

"I looked at my wife, she looked at me, then we both looked out the window and wished we had never been born.

"'Say, Garsong,' I said, after we came to, 'my wife is a daughter of the American Revolution and she's so patriotic she eats only in United States, so cut out the Moulin Rouge lyrics and let's get down to cases. How much will it set me back if I order a plain steak—just enough to flirt with two very polite appetites?'

"'Nine dollars and seventy cents,' said Joan of Arc's brother Bill; 'the seventy cents is for the steak and the nine dollars will help some to pay for the Looey the Fifteenth furniture in the bridal chamber.'

"'Save the money, John,' whispered Peaches; 'and we'll buy a cow with it.'

"'How about a sliver of roast beef with some slapped potatoes,' I said to the waiter. 'Is it a bull market for an order like that?'

"'Three dollars and forty-two cents,' answered Henri of Navarre; 'forty-two cents for the order and three dollars to help pay for the French velvet curtains in the golden suite on the second floor.'

"'Keep on guessing, John; you'll wear him out,' Peaches whispered.

"'Possibly a little cold lamb with a suggestion of potato salad on the side might satisfy us,' I said; 'make me an estimate.'

"'Four dollars and eighteen cents,' replied Patsey Boulanger; 'eighteen cents for the lamb and salad and the four dollars for the Looey the Fifteenth graperies in the drawing-room.'

"'Ask him if there's a bargain counter anywhere in the dining-room,' whispered Peaches.

"'My dear,' I said to Clara J., 'we have already displaced about sixty dollars' worth of space in this dyspepsia emporium, and we must, therefore, behave like gentlemen and order something, no matter what the cost. What are the savings of a life-time compared with our honor!'

"The waiter bowed so low that his shoulder blades cracked like a whip.

"'Bring us,' I said, 'a plain omelet and one dish of prunes.'

[Illustration: "Bring us a plain omelet and one dish of prunes."]

"I waited till Peter Girofla translated this into French and then I added, 'And on the side, please, two glasses of water and three toothpicks. Have the prunes fricasseed, wash the water on both corners, and bring the toothpicks rare.'

"The waiter rushed away and all around us we could hear money talking to itself.

"Fair women sat at the tables picking dishes out of the bill of fare which brought the blush of sorrow to the faces of their escorts. It was a wonderful sight, especially for those who have a nervous chill every time the gas bill comes in.

"When we ate our modest little dinner the waiter presented a check which called for three dollars and thirty-three cents.

"'The thirty-three cents is for what you ordered,' Alexander J. Dumas explained, 'and the three dollars is for the French hangings in the parlor.'

"'Holy Smoke!' I cried; 'that fellow Looey the Fifteenth has been doing a lot of work around here hasn't he?' but the waiter was so busy watching the finish of the change he handed me that he didn't crack a smile.

"Then I got reckless and handed him a fifty-cent tip.

"The waiter looked at the fifty cents and turned pale.

"Then he looked at me and turned paler.

"Then he tried to thank me, but he caught another flash of that plebeian fifty and it choked him.

"Then he took a long look at the half-dollar and with a low moan he passed away.

"In the excitement I grabbed Peaches and we flew for home.

"Say! Bunch! the only time I'll ever go in the St. Regis again will be just after a hearty dinner."

"I guess you're right, John, but what about this scheme to win out my wedding money?" Bunch queried. "I'm dreadfully nervous about it."

"I know. Bunch, I know just how you feel. I'm quite a bit to the St. Vitus myself, because if Clara J. ever gets wise that I've been speculating again after faithfully promising her to cut out all the guessing contests, she's liable to say something unkind. I simply must get that money back, Bunch, before she knows I lost it, and Signor Petroskinski is the name of our paying teller. I tell you, Bunch, we can't lose if we handle this cinch right, and I've got it all framed up. It's good for a thousand plunks apiece every week, so cut out the yesterday gag and think of a fat to-morrow."

"I'd like to see this Petroskinski," said Bunch.

"I'll have him take luncheon with us to-morrow at the Hotel Astor—twelve thirty. Are you for me to the finish, Bunch?"

"If you think it's all right I'll trail," said Bunch, and we shook hands.

"But not a word to the home folks," I cautioned him.

CHAPTER II.

JOHN HENRY GETS A SUFFICIENCY.

Since Uncle Peter Grant was elected Mayor of Ruraldene one book ago, our family group considers it extremely disloyal to stay in the big town for more than four hours at a time. So with us it is a case of catching those imitation railroad trains at all sorts of hours and commute to beat the band.

Since I became a confirmed commuter I have sprained three watches and two of my legs trying to catch trains that are wild enough to dodge a dog-catcher.

The commuters are divided into two classes: going and coming.

One of the first rules for a commuter to follow after he locates the railroad station, and hikes there a couple of times to get in training, is to get a red and pink and blue hammock.

A hammock is a necessary evil in the country, because only by this means can the insects become acquainted with the new commuter.

The day after we first put up our new hammock Uncle Peter came rubbering around to look it over. He was all swelled up over being elected Mayor, and he dropped in the hammock with a splash. Ten seconds later the rope exploded and Uncle Peter made a deep impression on the stone porch.

Every mosquito in the neighborhood rushed to his assistance and tried to lift him up with their teeth.

Then Uncle Peter ran home and told Aunt Martha that Cinders, our bulldog, had tried to bite him.

The national emblem of the commuter is the lawn-mower.

The lawn-mower was invented originally for the purpose of giving the lawn a quick shave, and because it can't talk like a barber it makes a noise like the fall of Port Arthur.

I remember the first day I decided I would trim the vandyke beard on our lawn. Of course I got all mine, and I got it good. The result will always live in history side by side with the battle of Gettysburg.

The lawn-mower was sleeping peacefully in the barn when I rushed in and dragged it shriekingly from its slumbers.

Perhaps it was because I forgot to lather the lawn, but any way it was the hardest shave I ever had anything to do with.

That lawn-mower began to complain so loudly that the neighbors for miles around rushed to the rock pile and armed themselves for the fray.

The committee of citizens attracted by the screams of the lawn-mower came over to see if I was killing a member of the family or only a distant relative.

When they saw me boxing the ears of a stubborn lawn-mower they said my punishment was heavy enough, so they threw away the lynching rope and left me at the post.

Clara J. came out on the porch and said, "John, perhaps that lawn-mower would stop screaming if you used a little axle grease!"

"All right," I came back at her, "but it will take me an hour and a half to find out which part of the lawnmower will fit the axle grease."

Then I lifted the machinery up to examine its constitution and by-laws, and about two and a half pounds of wrought iron fell off and landed on my instep.

The wrought iron made good.

Then I tried to stand on the other foot, but I lost my balance and fell on the lawn-mower's third rail.

I never was so mortified in my life as when that lawn-mower began to saw its initials on my shin bones.

Every time I tried to get up I lost my balance, and every time I lost my balance the lawn-mower would leap up in the air and fall on my wish-bone.

When loving hands finally pulled us apart I was two doors and a half below unconsciousness, while the lawnmower had recovered its second wind and was wagging its tail with excitement.

After waiting for about ten minutes for me to come back in the ring, the lawn-mower got impatient and began to bark at me in Yiddish, so I decided that our lawn could grow whiskers like a Populist farmer and be hanged to it.

Another splendid bit of local color in the life of some commuters is the tunnel which runs from Forty-second Street up as far as One Hundred and Fifty in the shade.

A ride through this tunnel on a hot day will put you over on Woosey Avenue quicker than a No. 9 pill in Hop Lee's smoke factory.

In order to get out to Ruraldene I have to use the tunnel, and every time I use it it leaves something which looks like the mark of Cain across my brow.

The first day I went through that tunnel will always remain one of my hottest memories.

I lost nine pounds of solid flesh somewhere between my shoulder blade and Seventy-ninth Street.

The sensation is the same as a Bad Man's hereafter, including the sulphur.

First I choked up a little, then I coughed, then I stirred uneasily, and then I looked out the window and prayed for the daylight, and then I looked at my newspaper, but I couldn't read it, because the railroad company had found the gas bill pretty heavy last month and they were cutting down expenses.

Then I lost my breath, and when I got it back I found it wasn't mine.

Then I began to fan myself with my hat, but I stopped when the man behind me began to kick because I was handing him more than his just share of the tunnel gas.

Then I began, to choke up again, and then I coughed, and then I could feel something fat and mysterious playing hide and go seek around my brain, but outside all was black as ink, and only from the noise could I tell that the road was still paying dividends.

The air began to get close and thick like a porterhouse steak in a St. Louis hotel.

I began to breathe like my wife crochets an open-faced stocking—one, two, three, drop one; one, two, three, four, drop one.